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He pressed his left hand to the ground and activated Bamboo Sea Emergence. Bamboo shot out of the parched, cracked earth, green-gold light spreading among the withered grass as a dozen, then dozens, then hundreds of bamboo stalks sprang from the ground.

He did not stop. He continued pouring in Soul Power, and the bamboo grew farther and farther until it covered nearly a hundred zhang.

He felt the rate at which his Soul Power was being consumed. It was a little faster than at the training ground, because the earth here was drier and harder, and the bamboo needed more Soul Power to force open gaps in the soil as it took root.

He withdrew Bamboo Sea Emergence and spread it out again.

This time, he covered only ten zhang instead of a hundred, but he required every stalk of bamboo to grow exactly where he wanted it.

The dense patches were packed so tightly that not even the wind could pass through, while the sparse patches left gaps just wide enough for one person. It was like placing pieces on a chessboard: every one had to be where it belonged.

He practiced all morning. He did not rest at noon, taking only a few sips of water before continuing.

In the afternoon, he switched methods, spreading Bamboo Sea Emergence beneath his feet and quickly withdrawing it, then spreading it out and withdrawing it again, shortening the interval between compression and release over and over.

By evening, he could complete a full cycle of spreading and withdrawal in two breaths, twice as fast as before.

After dark, he returned to his lodging and sat down by the bed without lighting a lamp.

Bamboo Breath flowed slowly through his body, repairing the slight wear accumulated over the course of the day.

He closed his eyes and went over what he had practiced that day in his mind. Once he had confirmed that he had missed nothing, he lay down and fell asleep.

The next day, he changed locations. He took a different road east until he reached a rocky shoal.

The stones here varied in size, the largest half as tall as a person and the smallest no bigger than a fist. He pressed his left hand against a rock and activated Bamboo Sea Sound, sending bamboo shooting out between the stones.

This time, however, he controlled the direction of the bamboo roots, guiding them around the rocks along their surfaces rather than forcing them apart or driving the roots in. They flowed through the gaps like water.

Some of the bamboo grew a little crooked, but he did not correct it, letting it bend naturally around the shapes of the rocks. The crooked bamboo was actually steadier than the straight stalks.

On the third and fourth days, he changed locations and methods each day. Sometimes he made Bamboo Sea Emergence cover as wide an area as possible.

At other times, he made the position of every bamboo stalk as precise as possible, or pushed the speed of its spread and withdrawal to the limit.

By the evening of the fifth day, he stood on the barren slope and gently pressed down with his left hand.

In an instant, Bamboo Sea Emergence covered a hundred zhang. The position of every stalk was clear to see, the dense patches like walls and the sparse ones like paths, as though someone had drawn a picture on the ground and planted them according to it.

He stood there for several breaths, then drew back his left hand. The bamboo sprang back into the earth, and the specks of green-gold light scattered and vanished. Only a few shallow indentations remained in the ground, like wet patches after rain, soon dried by the wind.

He lowered his head and glanced at his palm. The two marks on it felt a little heavier than they had five days ago, not darker in color,

but heavier beneath the skin, like two pieces of iron that had been tempered again and again, growing more solid with every use.

Bamboo Breath also flowed faster through his meridians, like a current gaining speed after its riverbed had been widened.

On the morning of the sixth day, he returned to his lodging, washed his face, and changed into a clean outer robe.

The silver token was still on the table, covered in a thin layer of dust. He picked it up, wiped it off, tucked it into his robes, and pushed the door open.

There were not many people in the courtyard. A few members of the Golden Generation were walking toward the training ground. Their steps faltered when they saw him, and their gazes lingered on him for a moment, but no one spoke to him.

Lin Qing crossed the front courtyard and entered the main building to the north.

In the long hall, the gray-robed man was still sitting behind the desk, leafing through a booklet. He looked up at him, his gaze lingering for a moment before returning to the booklet. "Lin Qing. You're five days late."

"Mm."

The gray-robed man asked no further questions. He took a thin booklet from a drawer and placed it on the table.

"Training log. Fill in what you complete each day yourself. Assemble at the hour of the rabbit. Anyone who's late will be eliminated. Starting tomorrow."

Lin Qing picked up the booklet and opened it to the first page. It held a blank table, with neat columns for date, activities, duration, and remarks.

He closed the booklet and turned to leave.

As he walked out of the main building, the bell for the hour of the rabbit rang.

Deep and far-reaching, its sound came from the bronze bell atop the building, sending ripples of echoes across the stone paving of the courtyard.

Lin Qing stood amid the ringing, glanced down at the silver token tucked into his robes, then headed toward the training ground.

Before the bell for the hour of the rabbit had finished ringing, Lin Qing was already standing at the edge of the training ground.

This time, he did not stand at the end of the formation, nor did he deliberately try to move toward the middle.

Twelve people stood in two rows. Qin Wuj iu stood in front, holding the well-worn booklet, his gaze sweeping over every face.

His eyes paused on Lin Qing for a moment, but he asked no questions. He merely turned to a page in the booklet and tapped the paper with the end of his brush.

"Official training begins today." His voice was not loud. "Before we officially begin, there's something I need to tell you.

"There are only seven places in the Golden Generation. Of the twelve of you, only seven will ultimately remain in the core. The other five will either become reserves or leave."

No one in the formation moved. But Lin Qing noticed a change in the breathing of several people-not much, just a half-beat pause, but in the quiet it was perceptible.

Qin Wuj iu said no more. He stepped back toward the edge of the field, clearing the center.

Another figure entered through the training ground's entrance. Golden-haired and tall, he walked with steady strides, each step carrying an oppressive presence that radiated naturally from him without any deliberate effort.

Yan. Xie Yue and Hu Liena followed behind him, one on either side and half a step back, their strides in sync, as though they were already used to walking side by side like this.

The three stopped in the center of the field. Yan's gaze swept over the formation, pausing on several faces before finally settling on Lin Qing. It lingered for one breath, then moved away.

Xie Yue stood at his side with his arms folded, his gaze somewhat cold, as though weighing up every face.

Hu Liena stood on the other side, her deep violet eyes sweeping over the formation without lingering on anyone, but the sweep itself was an appraisal, as though she were measuring everyone against the same ruler.

"I'll take the first sparring match today," Yan said. His voice was lower than expected, with a hint of rasp.

Qin Wuj iu opened the booklet and read out a name. "Shen Du."

Shen Du stepped out of the formation, his steps light and his bound hair swaying behind his head. He came to a stop in the center of the field and looked at Yan across a distance of five zhang.

Neither of them moved immediately. Yan stood there with his hands at his sides, as though he had not even revealed his Martial Soul yet.